A cup of London Fog warms
My frost bitten fingers
My toes curl tighter in my socks
Cramming together to stay warm
Sitting on the little window sill
A silent corner amidst the  
Voices in conversation
And the shuffling of books and newspapers

My mind is like a messenger dove
Still perched on a branch
Waiting for the note it must deliver
But whose thoughts are already
Lost in what the flight will bring

My eyes stare out of the
Glass divide
The see-through division between
The snowy outside world
And the coffee’s home

Suddenly all freezes
The strolling people outside
With their snow caps and weathered coats
Are statues
Identical
With no emotion of their faces
All those who sit at the tables
Within the café’s warmth
With their books and computers
Dissolve to sand   

I watch the slow extinction
Of society and friends
Movement and speech
My eyes
The only ones left unfrozen
My body
The only one left whole

Did they migrate to another world?
Did they realize their bodies weren’t really who they were?
But instead that they were particles apart of everything else.
Who knows?
Yes
I think
Who knows?
And
With my eyes unfrozen
My body whole
My toes cold
And a cup of London Fog in my hands
I take a sip
And contemplate

Tree’s ravaged roots
By axes a thousand
Spilling the blood of forest barks and mosses
The trunk’s weeping screams
Enough to deafen the nearest fowl

Each branch sheds tears
Of liquefied organs and veins
That once hitting the ground
Flow in rushing meanders
Enough to drown soil housed insects

Every leaf that was born
Green and luscious under the sun’s beams
Now recoil and shiver
Into a rusted deathly brown
All the breath that once recycled
Back through its green body
Chased into a withered chasm

One by one
The axe takes a thousand lives in one
One by one
The world that nurtured humanity
Decays by humanity’s hands
One by one
The ruin of all
Will occur
By the axe
Of humanity

My hands I keep in my pockets
My eyes I keep steady focus with
The other shadows walking the concrete
Sidewalk
The shadows that first walked as I did
Now part as to give me way
Their shadow eyes watch me
I know this is an illusion of my mind
It plays tricks with me
Making me feel wrong
When I am right
Shutting out the world
Gives you pain and freedom
Illusion and clarity
What do I walk away from?
You may ask
Oh, many a thing
I would say
Many a thing I feel
No need to recollect
Shutting down the mind
Now that’s the real challenge
My hands I keep in my pockets
My eyes I keep in steady focus with
The empty path before me
Bordered by staring shadows

Her head bent
Like reeds blown in a storm.
The veins of her throat pulse
Hot blood pumping
Up and out her gaping mouth.

Her damp locks veil her face
From the flames in consume
Surrounding the grove where she sits.
Those which had once been her eyes
Now blackened by burning soot
Pay her no more ability of sight

In the dark clutches of night
Where flames and embers
The world’s lantern
Tempest clouds
Let loose salty tears.

In this hollow space
Between the wind’s gusts and fires crusts
She sings what her voice
Holds left:

*Hail the silence of the burned trees
Hail the curses of the world’s ceaseless moans
Hail the blindness of the flaming bees
Hail the round-topped sheltered domes
This grove doth bestow
Hey-** hey-**
What doth bestow
Is apt to know
Hey-** hey-**
Hark the withering leaves
Of Autumn’s first winds
Hark the blooming ashes
Autumn’s second tale begins

Within the enclosed
Walls of the
Windowless cell
Huddled in the corner
A man sits motionless

The coldness of the
Damp brick walls
Around him
Creep through his
Sweaty skin
Clogging the pores
Causing a fever

No window
Breaks the brick walls
Of the dwarf sized cell
No light
Just darkness
Ensnare the space
Around the cross-legged man

He feels his eyes
Will soon go blind
From the choked
Layer upon thick layer
Of blackness

He feels his skin
Will solidify
Into a frozen fever
Of cold
All the blood and veins
Beneath
Slowly turning to crusts of nothing

These are terrible

Terrible as the jingle of
The key’s click
Meaning the door is locked
Not to be opened
Until his executioner
Decides is right

Terrible as the moment
He caught his last
Glimpse of the sun’s beams
Gifting the outside world with
Simple happiness

But neither of these
Could amount to
The horrifying
Sound of a single
Clock’s steady
Ticking
Ticking
Ticking away the minutes
And hours remaining of his life

The man sits
Sits and sits
Never moving
His ears are continuously
Invaded with this
Ticking
Ticking
Ticking
How will he survive?

What seem
To be weeks pass
And he sits
In that same corner
Motionless
On the edge of madness

Ticking
After
Ticking
Pass
And soon
He understands
To fall in love
With this sound
Is the key

He listens now
And soon
In place of the
Ticking
The man in the
Windowless cell
Hears music

Soon an orchestra
Of deep fathomless cello
Smooth whispering piano
Melancholy violin
Echoes throughout the
Tunnels of this man’s ears

Now
With music his companion
This man
Cross-legged in the corner
Of the windowless cell
Smiles to the
Music
Through his sorrows

Whales of thought
Dance unceasing
Bellies full curved
Chambers of bones and water
Eyes small and young
Old and wise

Whales of thought
Holding their breath
Ten seconds
Letting out song
Gongs of the ocean
Ten seconds

Rippled currents
Vibrations of voice

Stifled caresses
Tongue licking touch

Whales of thought
Songs
Ten seconds
Gongs of the ocean
Ten seconds

Deafening breathing silence
Window tappings
Like echoes scream
Of inner redemption
Thorny rose hips
Flowing meanders
Of tears and salt

Profuse secrets
Settle gentle as silk-webs
Over closed
Iron made door frames
These secrets
An orb of light
Amidst a gaping
Black hole
Of serenity…
Surrounding chaotic
Withering shutters to the mind